Rage
by Deandra
Summary: Lothiriel of Dol Amroth was receptive to the idea of marriage to the King of Rohan, but when they finally meet his behavior makes her reconsider the possibility. Complete in 3 chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Not long ago, I ran across an ad for an updated version of the Beauty and the Beast tale, setting it in modern times. The ad went like this: "A man with a hidden past. A woman whose love could unlock his heart. Will she find the man within the Beast? A story of change, forgiveness and love." That got me to thinking about a possible Middle Earth version of the tale, and I began to consider the possibilities with, who else, my favorite couple, Eomer and Lothiriel. Naturally, the plot had to alter quite a bit to fit them and their circumstances, but hopefully I came up with something plausible. Assuming I didn't miscount, I've already done 7 or 8 versions (some were oneshots, most were longer – I didn't count sequels separately) and even one with Eomer and an OC, but hey, we can never have too many love stories, right? I considered using "Beauty and the Beast" in the title, but I think it is just enough different to not necessarily tie it to that, so I've gone with a normal title. At the end of certain chapters, there will be some explanatory information for those of you not up on your Tolkien lore. All of it is taken from Thain's Book, a terrific online resource. I put the web address with the notes, but you'll need to add the periods back in the appropriate places for it to work.**_

**Rage**

**Chapter 1**

**(Edoras, August, 3019 III)**

"Enjoy your stay, dearest," Imrahil enjoined, beaming at his daughter. "I do hope this will work out in a happy manner."

She smiled at the look in his eyes. Her father had become very fond of the young king of Rohan during their time spent fighting together in the War. Now, he hoped his daughter would also find the man pleasing, and be willing to accept a suit of marriage. To that end, she was remaining in Rohan as the others returned home after Theoden's funeral. King Elessar and his party had left the previous day, en route to Isengard and the parting of ways for the Fellowship. Now her family was gathered to begin their own journey south, along with another large group that had come from Minas Tirith for the funeral, and for the trothplighting of Gondor's Steward to the king's sister.

"I am sure I will be fine, and Eomer seems a good man. Once we have had time to come to know one another, I do not doubt we can reach an agreement."

Lothiriel had been aware even before the cortege left Minas Tirith that her father had matrimony in mind for her, though he had not spoken of it directly. All her life, she had expected to some day make a marriage of alliance on behalf of her people. As the daughter of Dol Amroth's prince, she was one of the highest ranking women in the entire land of Gondor, and eminently suitable for such a match. Love would not necessarily be a factor in the decision process, though certainly in her heart of hearts, Lothiriel hoped that would eventually come with whomever she married.

Without question, the king was a handsome man, and the same could not be said for some of the noblemen of Gondor who she knew sought her hand. While she did not let such considerations sway her opinion, it was definitely a plus to the possible arrangement. The man, himself, she did not know well. They had had little interaction during the course of the funeral march and her time at Edoras, as he was too caught up in dealing with the memorial service, and the crowd of guests that had joined Rohan in their mourning. Now that things would return to normal at Meduseld, she was to remain and spend time with the king, determining if she wished to accept his suit. If she did, they would be trothplighted at Minas Tirith when all returned there in the spring for Eowyn's wedding to Lothiriel's cousin, the Steward.

Despite her assurances to her father, however, Lothiriel was more than a little apprehensive about this. Though King Eomer seemed willing to accept her as a marriage partner, the formal suit had been expressed to her not by him but by her father. She actually had never had a private conversation with the man, and though he did glance at her once or twice at meals, she could not discern any particular feeling or regard in his gaze. _Did he wish this union, or was he merely responding to his duty to acquire a wife and provide an heir?_ That uncertainty left her a little unnerved at the prospect of suddenly finding herself alone with him. While Eowyn would be here as companion so there would be no impropriety in her visit, it was still a daunting prospect.

Lothiriel waved as her father and brothers nudged their horses down the hill, watching their slow progress through the crowd that had turned out to farewell them. A few of the townspeople nearest Meduseld let their gaze linger on her, noting that she remained while her family departed. It was unlikely they could not guess the significance of that.

To her left, Eowyn caught her elbow and she turned to eye her questioningly. The woman's eyes were bright with unshed tears; she had not liked bidding farewell to her betrothed so soon, but it could not be avoided. "Come," Eowyn murmured. "It will only torment us if we watch until they are lost to sight."

Recognizing the truth of the observation, Lothiriel nodded and the two climbed the steps back to Meduseld. King Eomer had returned to the Golden Hall almost as soon as the guests departed, and was nowhere to be seen once they were inside. Feeling a bit adrift, Lothiriel was grateful when Eowyn took her in hand and bustled her off to discuss life in Gondor, and find out what more Lothiriel might be able to reveal about Faramir. She could not help smiling at that realization; how different it would be to engage in a betrothal where there was love. Lothiriel did not think she could hope for that.

xxxxx (end of Aug)

Eomer joined them late for supper, and was barely seated before announcing, "Orcs continue to grieve the Eastfold. I will be taking an eored tomorrow to deal with them." He did not look at either Lothiriel or his sister, focusing his attention on the meal he was dishing onto his plate.

Lothiriel glanced curiously at Eowyn, who merely shrugged and then asked, "How long will you be gone, brother?"

"How ever long it takes," was his laconic response, that effectively ended discussion of the matter.

When the meal finished, Meduseld was a flurry of activity preparing for the morrow. Though realizing she would likely only be in the way, Lothiriel offered to help if she could, but Eowyn assured her this was commonplace and that she was not needed, so she retired to her bedchamber for the evening.

While it had not been requested of her, she had overheard that the eored would leave just after dawn and she determined to arise and farewell them with Eowyn. This far north, the latter part of August was the beginning of fall, and mornings were cool. She arrived on the terrace wrapped in a warm cloak, and slipped in next to the king's sister, who gave her a grin. The two of them watched the riders and horses milling about, and then just as the sun's first rays cleared the mountains, Eowyn took a cup from the tray a servant stood holding next to her. She was quickly down the steps and approached her brother, bidding him farewell and safe return, followed by the cup of wine.

Eomer did not speak as he drank from the cup and handed it back, though he gave his sister a brief nod of the head. His eyes flicked up to where Lothiriel stood, and for a moment he just stared, then abruptly turned and mounted his horse. "Forth Eorlingas!" he called loudly, gathering his reins and moving out even as he spoke. The others let him through to the lead and then dropped into place behind him, filing down the hill toward the gates where the main body of riders awaited them.

The low light of dawn soon swallowed sight of them, and Lothiriel followed Eowyn back inside, uncertain how she felt about this marching to battle. She had allowed herself to believe that war was ended now that the Black Tower had fallen, but this drove home to her that it was not so. Evil still lurked in their lands, and would yet take some time to be swept away and all be made safe. Rohan, even more than Gondor, faced this danger, just as it had during the Ring War and the time before it. This was a wilder land where evil could more easily conceal itself, and she was considering making it her home. The thought gave reason for pause.

xxxxx (return in mid-Sept)

As it turned out, the eored was gone for more than three weeks and they were well into September before the horns sounded announcing their return. Lothiriel had been embroidering on wedding garments for Eowyn, and at first she did not immediately realize what she was hearing. A moment later, however, a servant scurried into the room to inform her of the situation, and that Eowyn requested she join her in the Golden Hall to welcome them home.

The two moved out to the terrace to wait, and Lothiriel had to shade her eyes against the bright autumn sunlight to see the riders crawling toward the city gates like ants.

"There are few riderless horses," Eowyn observed quietly. "That is a good sign."

They watched parts of the group split off at various points along the way, until only about a dozen riders continued all the way to the top of the hill. With an effort, Eowyn restrained herself from racing down the stairs to meet her brother, and at length he climbed to join them. Casting aside decorum, Eowyn flung herself in his arms. After several moments of the embrace, she asked, "It went well?"

He nodded, drawing back from her. "Yes, we wiped out the entire group. Only three men were injured and not seriously."

There was a gleam of rage in his eyes that hadn't quite been stilled on the trek home, and it made Lothiriel uneasy to see it when he glanced at her. Swallowing hard, she said, "Welcome home, my lord. I am pleased you have returned safely."

He nodded in acknowledgement, but looked away from her toward Meduseld. "Thank you," he answered curtly, moving inside and leaving them to follow.

Eowyn's eyes narrowed at his behavior, but she held her tongue for the moment. Ever since the battle on the Pelennor she had sensed something slightly different about Eomer. Her preoccupation with Faramir at the time had caused her to put it out of her mind, assuming it would pass away eventually. If anything, it seemed to be increasing though, and Eomer appeared far more distant and unapproachable than usual. She had never known him to be like this during their entire lives. Something was wrong and she intended to find out the cause.

Eomer headed straight to his bedchamber, brushing off the advisers who sought council with him, and instructing servants to prepare a bath for him. He remained sequestered there until it was time to eat.

Lothiriel had trailed in behind the siblings, watching as Eowyn moved to order the household in preparing a feast for the returned riders. Feeling superfluous, Lothiriel returned to her room to resume the embroidery work she had been doing, but her mind was as busy as her fingers. She had thought Eomer wanted this to work, and yet nothing in his demeanor gave her any encouragement. He was making no effort to spend time with her; he even seemed to be avoiding her. Other than a few glances in her direction, she saw little indication he was even aware of her presence in his home. And if he _was_ aware, then he seemed thoroughly disinterested. Certainly she had not expected this.

By the time the feast was to begin, she already had a headache from her turmoiled musings. Changing her clothes, she gazed at herself in the looking glass and then took a deep steadying breath. She had been in difficult social situations more than once during her life, she would get through this one.

Unlike most feasts in Gondor, the seating arrangements were generally less formal in Rohan. Other than the high table for the king and his guests, the remainder could sit wherever they wished. Despite her pre-eminence as a guest in the household, Lothiriel still took a seat some distance from the king, preferring to buffer herself against him for the time being. Perhaps tomorrow would be better for further attempts at establishing a personal relationship with the man.

The noisy hall and smoke from the fires was doing nothing to improve her head or her mood. Eowyn had been wrapped up in conversation with numerous of her kinsmen, so Lothiriel felt a bit isolated, even more so as the singing and dancing began. Few dared approach the woman from Dol Amroth, so she sat alone, a complaisant smile plastered on her countenance.

After some time, however, she was on the verge of begging forgiveness and excusing herself from what appeared would soon be a raucous and rowdy festivity. Already there had been much drinking and quite a few were feeling the effects of it. Just as she prepared to stand, a shadow fell upon her, and she glanced up to find Eomer teetering unsteadily in front of her, a tankard of ale in his hand.

For a moment he just stared blearily at her, and she wondered if he even realized who he was approaching. Then finally he slurred, "Dance with me?" He gestured toward the floor with his mug, and a bit of the ale sloshed over the rim and down the side.

Repressing a grimace, she smiled and answered, "Forgive me, my lord, but I am weary this evening and would wish to withdraw. Another time perhaps."

Her words did not immediately register with him, so he stood there a bit longer before giving a small grunt and shuffling away. He was soon ensconced at a table with several other men, and loudly singing offkey a song about the battle for the Pelennor. Part of her was angry and offended that he would dare approach her in such a state, but another part was profoundly saddened by it. _Surely he knew better than this. What would drive such a fine man to behave in such a low manner?_ There was clearly something greatly amiss with him. Giving a soft sigh, she rose and inobtrusively departed. She did not belong at this gathering, though she was pleased for their victory and that so few had been injured in the effort, but she could find no joy in what her eyes saw here tonight.

Even so, sleep did not come readily, and she lay awake a long time, listening to the revelry from the Hall and pondering her situation.

For the next several days, Lothiriel saw little of Eomer. No effort at an apology was made, and she was not even certain that he remembered inviting her to dance in his drunken state. She had seen Eowyn watching her brother with concerned eyes, but he appeared to keep her at a distance as well.

xxxxx (mid-Oct)

If they had thought the situation would improve over time, they were mistaken. A mere month later, Eomer announced another sortie, this time to the Westfold. He still had made no effort to spend time with Lothiriel, though she had attempted to approach him several times. At each turn, he had spoken only briefly with her, saying as little as possible and then excusing himself for 'pressing business'.

Lothiriel knew she was not unattractive, and she had every reason to think her manners and personality were pleasing to most men. Why Eomer seemed so standoffish to her, she could not even begin to fathom. _Were the ways of Gondor too strange to him? Was he incredibly shy?_ She had never gotten that impression of him, either by her own observation or anything any said of him. And he did not seem to have difficulty with other Gondorians, getting along with her own family as well as with Faramir and King Elessar. _Yet she stood alone as rejected of him – why?_

For the second time, Eowyn and Lothiriel watched the eored ride away with Eomer at its head. Lothiriel suspected Eowyn was embarrassed by her brother's behavior, and thus had never spoken of it to Lothiriel. Even so, she glimpsed a determined look in the Rohirric woman's eye. She very much suspected Eowyn would tackle this problem directly in the very near future.

When the riders returned a fortnight later, Lothiriel, along with the servants, could not help but overhear the loud row between siblings as they argued in his study. But if Eowyn had wanted answers, she did not get them from her brother, and he had stormed angrily from the room after telling her to mind her own business. She had had to send for someone to repair the door that he had nearly torn from the hinges during his passage.

Next Eowyn spoke with Eothain, to ask what he knew of Eomer's behavior. Though reluctant to speak ill of his captain and king, he recognized that Eowyn likely should hear of what he had observed and told her, "He is…grown reckless, my lady. I do not know why. Ever since the Pelennor, he takes risks that he should not, especially now that he is king, and has no heir. I know he hates this evil that still has presence in our land, but he is not always in control of himself as he fights. His assaults on the enemy are almost fevered. I…I fear for his mental state."

He swallowed nervously, and gazed hopefully at the White Lady, but she sighed defeatedly. "He will not even speak to me of what troubles him. He denies anything is the matter, and just becomes angry at my interference, but like you I am concerned for him." She gripped the man's arm reassuringly. "We will keep trying to reach him. Let me know if there is anything you see that I should be aware of in the matter."

The entire situation frustrated Eowyn on several fronts. Yes, she was concerned about Eomer himself, but there was also another person involved. She liked Lothiriel a great deal, more than she had expected. Most noblewomen of her acquaintance, particularly those she had encountered in Gondor, were thoroughly silly, by her estimation. She found them intolerable and spent as little time in their company as she had to. Consequently, she had never had a close female friend, but she thought she could be friends with this young woman from Dol Amroth. She was sensible and determined, and though they had differing views on a great many things, Lothiriel gave no indication of disdain for what Eowyn was. True, she had forsaken her shieldmaiden ways, by her own choice, when she agreed to marry Faramir, but still many looked at her with snubbing eyes. Lothiriel was not one of them. She seemed to have a much greater tolerance for individual differences and, while willing to help all she could to acclimate Eowyn to Gondorian society, she had never attempted to change the person within.

Moreover, Eowyn could certainly not fault her patience and perseverance. Eomer had been…insufferable. And she had borne it with good grace at every turn. Clearly she was trying to make this work, and yet Eomer seemed determined to sabotage the betrothal with his behavior. Despite Eowyn's attempts at talking to him, making him see the self-destructive path he was on and how it was affecting all around him, it almost seemed his behavior worsened after these talks, perhaps in defiance. She could not blame Lothiriel if she walked away from this, and she felt certain the woman was very close to doing so. Though Lothiriel made every effort to conceal them, Eowyn had not missed the look in her eyes and the expressions that flitted over her face as she gazed at the king. She had wanted this to succeed, but she could not do it alone. She would not try forever to make it so. Sooner or later, she _would_ decide against Eomer and leave. And there apparently was nothing at all Eowyn could do about it.

xxxxx (late Nov)

If nothing else, Lothiriel could not deny she had found plenty of ways to be useful while at Meduseld. The house was gearing up for winter, and there was much to do in that regard. Lothiriel sewed and knitted whatever was needed, pleased that her skills in that area were being put to good use.

Occasionally some of the other ladies or servants would sit and work with her, and thus she was kept up on all the gossip of Edoras and Meduseld. Likely the speakers did not think about what impact their words might have on this visitor whom they had so readily accepted into their midst, and so they spoke freely of all that they had overheard. It was because of this that Lothiriel learned of the dire straits in which Rohan struggled going into the winter.

As Imrahil's daughter, she had been somewhat sheltered most of the years before the War. Only while her father was away leading the Swan Knights, and she was left to assist Elphir as he watched over Dol Amroth, did she begin to see more of what went on in the leading of a country. Even so, she felt sure she had little grasp of how devastated Rohan must be. More and more she heard of destroyed homes, despoiled lands left barren, and animals stolen or killed. The enemy had left little for any survivors who remained, and now they struggled to find food and shelter for the cold months ahead. Lothiriel had seen the problems of Dol Amroth weigh heavily upon her father, and subsequently on her brother, and they were not near so dire as what she was hearing of Rohan. Surely this must be a crushing burden for the young king to be bearing. Her compassion for him was moved even more deeply than before.

And, yet, she did not think she could attribute all of his ill-temper and unsociable behavior to worry over his people. She still believed there was something more at play. Her room at Meduseld was situated near to his, and more than once in the night she had awakened to the sounds of his distress. She had known her brothers to suffer nightmares at times, the result of things they witnessed in battle, but they had never been so severe as what seemed to be tormenting the king.

Moreover, she was concerned at the rage that burned so much in his eyes. More than once she had felt a shiver of fear run down her back when he looked at her, anger smoldering deep inside him and reflected in his gaze. She did not think he was even aware that it could be seen by others, or perhaps he did not care.

In an attempt to better understand Eomer, she asked discreet questions of the servants, and learned much of his history. The death of his parents was well-known, as was the cause of their deaths, and she could not help being struck by the seeming resemblance between his father's reckless behavior and his own.

As the month of November progressed, frequent heavy rains kept most indoors, and Lothiriel regretted not being able to get out and exercise with a walk about town. The physical activity had always helped clear her mind, but she did not like to pace about the Golden Hall for fear of giving the impression of boredom. So, when she was alone in her bedchamber, she walked its small confines to get what exercise she could.

The confinement indoors seemed another opportunity to attempt bridging the gap between her and Eomer, and on a day when it did not appear he was too busy with other matters, she approached him. Reluctantly he agreed to meeting with her in his study, though it seemed the last thing he wished to do and she almost regretted suggesting it. But, this needed to be resolved or she might as well go home. If he was not going to pursue a relationship with her, then there was no reason to consider accepting his suit.

It was evident he was not going to make this easy for her, as he took up position by the window with his back to her. Steeling herself for what might come, she ventured, "My lord, I have been here some little while, but we have not managed to spend much time getting to know one another. I would very much like to become better acquainted with you."

If anything, he stiffened more and did not turn, saying only, "I have been extremely busy dealing with the problems the Riddermark faces. I do not have much time for social amenities."

Before she could respond, he added, "It is likely I will need to ride forth again to quell further orc attacks on my people. They are becoming desperate for food as the colder weather sets in."

Lothiriel sighed, then asked quietly, "Is it safe for you to engage in such things, my lord? I know you are a great and capable warrior, but it is always possible an enemy could strike an unexpected blow and fell you. Much as your people need your skill in battle, they more need their king to rule over them, and to provide them with an heir to the throne. Rohan's line of rule is in danger."

He wheeled around, glaring at her. "What do you know of anything? Rohan needs me to do what I do best – kill orcs! They are murdering our people still, and stealing what little food is left to them. I will not rest until I see every last one of them wiped from our land!" He moved over and thumped down in the chair at his desk, staring sullenly away from her.

"My lord, please! Look at yourself! If you are not careful, you will meet the same unfortunate end as your father, and then where will your people be? Without a king and without hope!" Lothiriel entreated desperately.

"You know nothing of my father!" Eomer roared, lurching to his feet. "Nothing at all! And you do not know Rohan either! We have survived for many generations, without counsel from some blushing maiden of Gondor! We are strong and proud, and we will prevail without you!" By now he was practically bellowing at her, and Lothiriel took a step back from the verbal assault, astonished by its intensity. For several long moments, they stood silently staring at one another, and then Eomer spoke, clearly intending to end the discussion.

"I am the _king_ of Rohan!" he snarled. "I may _do_ whatever I choose!"

Lothiriel felt as though she had been slapped, but straightened to her full height. "Yes, that is true, for Rohan and for yourself. But it does not apply to me. I am sorry, my lord. I stayed here to determine if a marriage alliance might be formed between our lands. I see now that is impossible. I wish to marry a man, not a ruthless warrior. I desire a husband rather than a cold-hearted killer in my bed. I will return to Dol Amroth as soon as possible."

She turned on her heel and walked from the room with as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances, though her emotions roiled within her. _Why had she ever thought this could work?_ Her father's admiration for the man in battle certainly could not translate to similar feelings were he to see the king as she had here. No, she would return home and be wed to a nobleman there. She might not have love in her union, but at least she would not have fear, and perhaps some semblance of love would come in time.

Lothiriel swiped in annoyance at the tears that had trickled from her eyes. _Why did it matter so much that this had failed? Nothing was firmly set; no one would think ill of her for choosing not to stay._ And, yet, her decision was still painful. She was not without compassion for Eomer. For all the gruff exterior he presented to those around him, she knew there was a great deal of pain underneath, eating away at him. Still, she had tried to get through to him, to help him find healing and he had pushed her away at every turn. _What more could she be expected to do? Marry the man and live in this misery with him?_ No, that would be intolerable. If he was going to destroy himself, she would not stay and watch.

Supper that evening was silent and tense. Eowyn could hardly miss the strained manner between Eomer and Lothiriel, but more than that, she glimpsed regret, surprisingly enough in both their eyes. As soon as the meal ended, Eowyn drew Lothiriel to her sitting room to find out what had happened, and the young woman explained about her encounter with the king earlier in the day.

Eowyn sighed, rubbing at her temples. "Is there nothing I might say to persuade you to stay longer, to give him more time?" she asked.

Lothiriel fought back tears and sat down heavily on a chair. "What good would more time do, Eowyn? He does not want me here, he does not want to get to know me. If I saw any hope that the situation would improve over time, I would gladly give it, but in all these months, nothing has gotten better. If anything, he feels even more distant from me than the day we first met."

Eowyn dropped her head into her hands. "I know. I am sorry to have even asked. None of this is your fault; I know that. You have done more than your part to make it succeed. I just…I fear for him. Something is dreadfully wrong and I know not how to make it right. He even pushes me away, and never in our entire lives has he done that before. We _always_ had one another when all else failed."

Lothiriel moved over to place a consoling hand on her friend's shoulder. "I am sorry. I wish there was something I _could_ do to help him, but I do not know what else to try."

After several moments, Eowyn straightened, regaining her composure. "When will you leave?"

Lothiriel dropped her eyes and fingered the back of the chair. "It will take a few days to gather my things and get them packed. I hope your brother will not object to sending an escort with me. If he does, then I must send word to my father and wait for him to have someone come to fetch me."

Eowyn rose. "I will see to it that Eomer cooperates and sends a guard with you. He owes you that much at least. You…you do realize that it will be an unpleasant journey. This time of year is not good for traveling, and there are no inns where you may shelter."

Lothiriel nodded. "It cannot be helped. I fear if I stay it will only agitate him further. If I cannot ease any of his burdens, I at least do not want to add to them."

TBC

_from Thain's Book online (www tuckborough net):_

_Father of Eomer and Eowyn. Eomund was descended through many generations from Eofor, the third son of King Brego of Rohan. In 2989, Eomund married Theodwyn, the daughter of King Thengel and sister of King Theoden. Their son Eomer was born in 2991 and their daughter Eowyn was born in 2995. _

_Eomund and his family lived at Aldburg in the Eastfold. Eomund was the chief Marshal of the Mark and was responsible for guarding the eastern marches of Rohan. One of his main concerns was protecting the horses of the Rohirrim against Orc raiders. Eomund was brave and fearless but he was also impulsive, and he often pursued Orcs with insufficient caution and few Riders. In 3002, Eomund followed a band of Orcs into the Emyn Muil, where he was ambushed and killed. _

_Theodwyn became ill and died shortly afterwards, and Eomer and Eowyn were taken in by their uncle, King Theoden. Eomer later became the King of Rohan._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2** (end of Nov-beginning of Dec)

Fate had other plans that did not coincide with Lothiriel's. Two days later, an early snowstorm struck. The flakes fell thick and fast, and it was soon clear it would not quickly blow itself out. Lothiriel was more than a little surprised when Eomer summoned her to his study late the next day. He was standing by the window just as he had been the last time she encountered him in this room.

For awhile, he said nothing, and she sat down in a chair, waiting patiently. At length, he turned and said quietly, "I cannot in good conscience allow you to leave. This storm is just the beginning, and travel would be not only difficult, but dangerous. And my men are needed more here."

Lothiriel's jaw tightened slightly at the final remark, but she knew his arguments otherwise were perfectly valid. Slowly she stood and told him, "Very well, my lord. I will remain until such time as men may be spared, and you think travel is safe. In the meantime, I will do my best not to trouble you." She gave a polite curtsy and turned toward the door, only glancing at him from the corner of her eye. For a moment, she almost got the impression he was going to say more but, in the end, he let her leave without further comment.

Though Lothiriel may have been tempted to doubt Eomer's assessment of the weather, over the next fortnight there was ample evidence that he was not exaggerating. She was used to mild winters with virtually no snow even seen, except in the mountains some distance away. The cold, rain and snow did not abate, and she watched the Meduseld staff battle to keep the mud at bay that was constantly being tracked inside.

She resumed her former efforts to make herself useful, and Eowyn at least seemed grateful for the help. Lothiriel could not avoid wondering what would happen when Eowyn wed, and there was no longer a lady at Meduseld to order the household.

Despite his prediction of needing to ride to battle against orcs again, Eomer had remained at Edoras, spending much time behind closed doors with his advisers. Nearly a month ago, at Lothiriel's urging, Eowyn had sent a letter to Faramir asking if Gondor might send food and supplies, to bolster Rohan and get them through the winter. They both had agreed it was safer for Eowyn to do so than for Lothiriel to interfere, but as yet nothing had been heard back.

Thus, it was with both relief and trepidation that they learned a party was arriving at the gates more than a sennight later. That there were many wagons in the group, which bore Gondor's flag, made them certain Faramir had answered their request for aid, but still uncertain was how Eomer would receive it.

Before her brother could be advised of the wagons' arrival, Eowyn went to his study to tell him personally in private. She could tell from the set of his jaw that he was not happy asking for Gondor's assistance. "Eomer, do not be so proud as to not do what is right for our people. Our lands were virtually destroyed and our crops are gone. We have not a reserve of food and fuel to get our people through the winter. It is right that our friends in Gondor should repay our help in the War with this generosity, so that our people will survive. And it gives us more time to effect a recovery."

There was stony silence for some time, until finally he mumbled, "I know all that, Eowyn, but I hate it that I am unable to provide for our people. I am letting them down when they need me most!"

"It is not so!" she exclaimed. "Do not ever think that! Certainly no one else does! You cannot make crops miraculously appear from barren earth! You cannot erect hundreds of homes singlehandedly! You are doing the best you can with what you have, and you will continue to do so. As king – a good king – you are finding what your people need and seeing that they get it, even if that means obtaining it from friends who have more, but are willing to share! You have not failed, Eomer!"

She wasn't entirely sure he believed her, and she began to understand a little better what troubled him. Despite all Rohan had suffered previously, he was bearing the brunt of the aftermath. Impulsively, she moved forward and slid her arms around his waist, pressing her face to his back. "These troubled times _will_ pass, Eomer! Do not doubt that! I predict that one day our people will look upon you as one of our greatest king's ever – the one who led them through and out of these difficulties."

A knock at the door interrupted their interlude, and Eomer straightened, pulling away from his sister. The messenger advised of the party at the door, wishing to see the king, and Eomer sighed as he moved to follow him to the Golden Hall. Eowyn trailed along as well.

If anything, Gondor had been even more generous than they had requested. Faramir had sent a letter, as Gondor's Steward, advising that he was sorry he had not thought to offer goods sooner. He assured that another load would follow, but that he had wanted to get this much sent as soon as possible, since he was sure it would take some time to see it distributed to those in need in outlying areas.

Several of Eomer's advisers were in the Hall, conducting business, and he set them the task of inventorying what was sent so they could determine what to do with it. Lothiriel watched silently as he turned and left to return to his study. Eowyn had become engrossed in helping the advisers and had not noticed her brother's lackluster response to the largesse, but Lothiriel had seen a defeated look in his eyes that was worrisome. _Why did this trouble him so?_ The help was sorely needed in the Riddermark, and Gondor had gladly accepted the call to service. There truly was no need for embarrassment, and Rohan had more than earned the right to ask so little in return, given the losses they had suffered in coming to Gondor's defense. Somehow, though, she did not think Eomer viewed things in that way.

Lothiriel had noticed that particularly difficult days often led to particularly fretful nights on Eomer's part. Tonight was no exception. She was not surprised to hear him in the throes of yet another nightmare, but this time was different. Suddenly there was a great crashing noise and then silence. Sitting bolt upright in bed, she listened, but could hear nothing more, and that was more alarming than the noise had been.

Hastily rising and throwing a robe around her, she lit a lantern and hurried to the king's room. She had never revealed to anyone that she could hear his distress in the night. She thought it would likely embarrass him, and upset Eowyn, so she had kept it to herself. Knocking at the door brought no response and, taking a deep breath to bolster her courage, she cautiously opened the door, calling, "My lord? Are you well?" There was no answer, and then she heard a soft moan, and she threw caution to the wind, darting inside.

Eomer was sprawled on the floor. Lifting the lantern higher to get a better look, she found his head covered in blood. It appeared as though he had smashed his head against the table. There was a strong smell of ale pervading the room, and she noted a small cask sitting on his bedstand. Hefting it, she found it was completely drained, and the mug was overturned on the floor with other items that had previously been on the stand.

Hurrying to the hallway, she called loudly, "Help! Help! The King has been injured!" It took only moments before she heard footsteps racing toward her, and two guards soon appeared. "In here," she directed, motioning them into the bedchamber.

After they had lifted Eomer back on the bed, one took off to fetch a Healer, and the other went to find a servant to bring water and clean cloths. Lothiriel looked through Eomer's chest and found a clean shirt that she used to press to the head wound, to staunch the bleeding. Gazing down at him, she mused ruefully that at least with the drink in his system he was likely not feeling much pain.

Oddly enough, in his unconscious state, he looked younger and more at peace than she had ever seen him. _Was this it, then? Did he seek escape from his problems in the bottom of a tankard of ale?_ Surely he knew any respite would only be temporary, and nothing would be resolved in this manner.

Footsteps in the hall drew her from her reverie, and she yielded her spot beside Eomer to the Healer. After examining the king, he announced, "It is not serious. I believe he must have fallen and hit his head, but head injuries always bleed alarmingly. However, we need to keep a close eye on him for any sign of concussion."

He set to cleaning and binding the wound, and then gave Lothiriel a bottle of something to give the king for pain, if he needed it later. Just as he was starting to leave, Eowyn raced into the room. "What is happening?" Her eyes fell on Eomer, taking in the bandage about his head, and she gasped in alarm.

"It is alright," Lothiriel reassured, moving to put an arm around her. "The injury is minor. A bit of sleep should set him right. Go back to bed. I will sit with him. I have had some experience with possible concussions, as my nephew once suffered one after falling from a wall. I will send for the Healer if your brother takes a bad turn."

Reluctantly, Eowyn did as she bid, clearing the room of the others as she went. With a sigh, Lothiriel resumed her seat next to the king and sat gazing at him. He was such a puzzle. Slowly, she felt she was beginning to piece together some of what troubled him, but there was still much she could not make out of the situation. Clearly, concern for his people weighed on him, and she would guess the cause of his nightmares had something to do with it as well, but why could he not let others help him?

She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there, lost in her thoughts, when she realized his eyes were open and staring at her. Reaching for a cloth, she dampened it in the basin of water that had been brought, and began to clean more of the blood from his face and hair.

After several moments, he groggily queried, "What happened?" His hand lifted, feeling at the bandage on his head.

"I do not know the particulars, but I believe you were having a nightmare, and somehow fell and struck your head on the bedstand," she explained, focusing her eyes on anything but his while she spoke.

"Why are you tending me?" he asked cautiously, apparently more lucid than she had thought.

Her hands stilled and then she queried, "Do you wish me to find someone else to do it?" She still did not look at him, keeping her gaze on the cloth in her hand, trying to relax her grip on it.

"No," he said at length. "I just…wondered why you would do it when.…"

He did not finish the sentence, but she took his meaning. "I am not without consideration for an injured man," she said quietly, pressing the cloth to his forehead in such a way that it blocked his view of her.

He sighed and closed his eyes, and she asked, "Does your head hurt? Do you have trouble seeing? We must watch for any sign of concussion."

"No, I am not concussed," he muttered. "I have been before; I know what it is like."

She did not comment, but merely continued her cleaning efforts. After awhile, he asked, "What makes you think I was having a nightmare?"

She considered how to answer, then said, "I have heard my brothers. I recognized the…sounds."

He looked away, his jaw clenching. "You have them often. Moreso than my brothers did," she added quietly, and his eyes flicked back to stare at her.

Almost without realizing he was doing so, he said, "Likely I have more reason for them. I have seen things…."

The haunted look she had noticed before in his eyes had returned. "Perhaps you should not go to battle for awhile. Perhaps only in staying away will you be able to find any healing in the matter," she suggested quietly.

He snorted. "That is not an option! A king must lead his men into war. It is expected!"

"We are not at _war_, my lord, and you have capable military leaders. A king does not need to ride into every battle his men face, and from what I have heard, you have earned a rest from it. Few others may claim so much time fighting the enemy as you. Indeed, you have given your whole life to it."

He turned to stare at her in the low light, obviously not expecting her remarks. At last, he looked away, and she was not sure she had convinced him of anything.

"I will be fine through the night," he told her. "You may return to your bed if you wish."

She rose and stoked the fire, adding a few logs, then moved over to a chair that had been drawn near the bed and settled herself comfortably, a blanket over her. "I said I would stay. I think it best that I do."

After a very long silence, he finally managed, "Thank you." It seemed to take a great effort for him to force out the words.

She hesitated then added, "If you have no objection, it would be wise for me to wake you periodically through the night, to make sure you have suffered no lasting effect from your injury."

Eomer sighed, then nodded. "Very well."

She just barely managed to refrain from raising her eyebrows in surprise at his compliance with the request. He had not been this agreeable in all her time at Edoras. Leaning back in the chair, she closed her eyes. It would be a long night; she ought to get what rest she could. She did not know that Eomer lay for quite awhile gazing at her, until finally weariness overcame him and he slept.

The drink he had ingested made waking him difficult, but true to her word, every few hours Lothiriel did so and checked his eyes. It appeared by morning that he had been correct, and that he had not suffered a concussion. He was still sleeping when she slipped out, back to her own room.

At break of fast, Eowyn asked her brother, "How is your head? Does it hurt?"

"I have had worse injuries, and more pain," he mumbled. It was evident he was embarrassed by the matter and did not wish to discuss it, so Eowyn let the subject drop.

xxxxx (Dec)

While the events surrounding Eomer's accident did not radically change anything, there seemed to be a subtle shift in his behavior. He was less belligerent than before, but still he kept to himself, and he continued to make no effort to approach Lothiriel. When she encountered a servant carrying a cask into his bedchamber two days later, he glared challengingly at her, daring her to reprimand him, but she kept silent and he turned quickly away.

Wintry weather was full upon them now, and were it not for the difficulties attendant to it, the snow could be quite riveting. Lothiriel had never had occasion to encounter snow in near proximity before, and she rather enjoyed venturing out into it for a closer study. The back terrace of Meduseld was sufficiently sheltered from the wind that she could linger longer than usual outdoors. Scooping up a handful of the cold, white powder, she was amazed to discover the myriad crystals that comprised it.

A throat was cleared behind her, and she turned to find Eomer standing there gazing at her. "Are you not cold?" he inquired politely.

"A little, but this is so very new to me that I wanted to examine it firsthand," she smiled, holding out the snow in her hand. "It is fascinating!"

He shrugged, then commented sullenly, "All I see when I look at it is hardship."

Her smile faltered at this declaration, but at least he was speaking with her, and this was one of the first times he had made any effort to reveal his thoughts. Tentatively she offered, "Yes, but you are overcoming those. With the supplies Gondor sent, you are better positioned to meet the needs of your people and, come the spring, you can begin to rebuild."

He turned away, seemingly unconvinced by her optimistic appraisal of the situation. Taking a different tack, and risking an explosion of anger, she said quietly, "May I ask what causes your nightmares, my lord? Is there nothing anyone may do to help put your mind at ease from them?"

He was silent so long that she did not think he intended to answer. Finally, though, he murmured, "They are caused by the war, and, no, there is nothing anyone can do. Words will not change what happened."

It was difficult to comment, not knowing the particulars, but she suggested, "The enemy stole much from our people, my lord, but do not let them continue to steal your peace. Things happen in war, unpleasant things that no man would wish in his rational moments. They are rarely avoidable, and sometimes difficult to live with, but they are past, and hopefully such a situation will never come again. We have buried our dead; you must try to bury your memories as well."

His gaze flicked up, and he stared at her for several long moments. Then, turning on his heel, he strode quickly away, leaving her uncertain as to whether she had helped or merely made things worse.

If Eomer's behavior was any indication, however, Lothiriel had to think her words were at least penetrating somewhat. She could not know if they were having any appreciable impact, but more and more she saw Eomer watching her when he did not think she was looking.

xxx

In one sense, Lothiriel was glad she had remained at Meduseld through the winter. They celebrated Yule, which was quite a bit different than the Mettare festival of her own experience. Despite the difficulties the Riddermark was facing, the people around Edoras and Meduseld seemed in good spirits as the holiday neared. There was to be a traditional Yule feast, with much music and dancing, and though the food stores were a bit slim and simple, all were just glad that they had survived to take part in the celebration.

It had surprised Lothiriel, who was sitting near Eomer at the head table, to see him refuse refills on his ale, selecting instead a watered wine to drink. She pretended not to notice, so as to cause him no embarrassment, but she was pleased for him that he had done so. The ale was not likely to help in any appreciable manner, and in many ways was hurting him more than he seemed to have realized.

She was further astonished when he moved to stand before her as the dancing began. This instance was far different than the last time he had requested a dance with her, and she did not hesitate to accept. "I should be delighted, my lord," she acknowledged, rising.

She had always been a good dancer and quick learner, so she was able to readily pick up the steps. Her few fumbles actually brought a smile to the king's face, and she was struck by how appealing the small change made him. She could not remember ever seeing him as he was now, apparently enjoying himself for the first time in a very great while.

Through the course of the evening there were still bouts of quietness and solemnity, but he at least seemed to be making the effort to be of good cheer and not adversely influence anyone else's mood. Eowyn had clearly been delighted to see him dancing and socializing, and she tried to stay near him to keep him on track, and not let him lapse back into his morose behavior.

At the end of the night, Lothiriel could not help thinking the event had been a victory of sorts for the king. Hopefully, he could continue to get his feet under him and move forward.

Even so, despite the positive aspects of the feast, after the turn of the year, things seemed to revert to business as usual. Eomer still spent long hours behind closed doors with his advisers, and the sessions always seemed to leave him tense and glowering.

Several weeks into January, Eowyn went off to have dinner with the wife of the Doorward, and it appeared that Lothiriel would be dining alone. She sat for a moment, staring at the table, and then rose decisively and headed for Eomer's study.

She was a little surprised when he summoned her in and she found him alone. Recovering quickly, however, she invited, "Will you not join me for the noonday meal? Surely some food would prove beneficial to your efforts."

He sat at his desk, rubbing wearily at his face with both hands, and her brow furrowed in concern. For several long moments, nothing was said, and then he managed to explain, "There is too much to do. I must…continue working."

She knew his advisers were eating in the main hall, so either his claim was untrue or he was continuing to work while they relaxed and ate. In a flash of insight, she began to understand part of the problem he was facing.

"Why do you take everything upon yourself, and try to do it all alone?" she questioned softly.

"I do not have any other option!" he snapped. "There _is_ no one to ease a king's burden. He has little choice but to do it alone."

"What of your advisers? Surely they could do more to ease your load," she suggested, but he stubbornly shook his head.

"Some things only the king may do, and the king stands by himself!" he avowed.

"You are mistaken," she argued, and he glanced up in surprise. "There is his queen, and she would share his burden if he let her."

He snorted bitterly. "Queen? There will never be such in Rohan! You would not have me, and little wonder! What makes you believe any other woman would? And what is there for her but a life of misery with an ill-tempered brute?" he growled self-pityingly, again rubbing his hands over his face.

For several moments Lothiriel did not respond, and then she told him quietly, "Again, you are mistaken. I did not reject you, my lord. It was you who rejected me, and I will not stay where I am not wanted. _I_ was willing, but you would not have me."

His gaze had shifted to the fire and he did not turn to look at her. With a small sigh, she stepped toward the door. She had done all she could for him; there was nothing more to be said.

He moved so silently that he startled her when he caught her by the elbow, and her eyes went wide for a moment. Then, at the look on his face, she calmed almost instantly.

"Lothiriel, please – do not leave! I know…I know that I have been unpleasant to deal with these past few months," he admitted, his jaw clenching in his fight for composure, "but my…my thoughts consume me." He moved over to gaze wistfully out the window at the cold landscape that seemed echoed in his very soul.

Almost to himself, he murmured, "I fear this madness will take me if there is none at Meduseld to speak reason to me. Eowyn will soon wed and be gone, and then I will be left here alone. I could not bear that!"

His words choked off, and he turned to look at her once more, his expression haunted. His eyes held the trapped desperation of a cornered animal.

Surely he had not intended her to see the naked fear that was so plainly evident. For an instant, she had an almost overpowering urge to pull him into her embrace and hold him until the fear had subsided, but she knew such was not possible. They were making progress, but they had not reached that point as yet. Still, she could not shrug off this moment with an idle remark unless she wished to do more damage to his mental state.

With an effort, she gathered her thoughts, and quietly assured him, "As you noted, it will easily be a month full before I could go anywhere. We will see how things go during that time, and we can make a decision then. And do not think my purpose here is only to offer you counsel. I am greatly desirous of helping you find peace within yourself. I know you struggle with many things just now. I would wish to be of assistance, if I can."

He let out a relieved breath, his features relaxing slightly, and then gave a short nod. "Th…thank you. I will try to be more agreeable, and not permit my concerns to overwhelm me," he said stiffly.

The embarrassment had resurfaced, and she could not bring herself to allow it to disrupt this tenuous treaty between them. Slowly her hand raised and came to rest against his cheek. "It is my pleasure, Eomer."

For the first time, she called him by name, and he gave no indication of disapproval, if he even noticed. Instead, he seemed to lean into her touch, welcoming the comfort of it. For several long moments, she remained silent, then softly encouraged, "Come, let us eat. A break from your duties will refresh you."

He swallowed hard and straightened, but nodded his consent and automatically offered his arm to her. She was careful to keep conversation over their meal restricted to idle topics that would not generate any tension. She was rewarded a time or two during the course of their repast with a winning smile. She wondered if he realized how much it changed his looks when he smiled.

Too soon he had apologized and excused himself to return to his study, but as she watched him walking from the dining chamber, she could not help noting his more relaxed posture. Certainly she had to count her efforts this day a success.

It did not take long over supper for Eowyn to notice a change in the air. Eomer made several unprompted comments to Lothiriel that could only be considered pleasantries. While she raised an eyebrow in surprise, she did not acknowledge it verbally. Whatever had happened to bring this about, she did not want to risk disrupting it with an ill-timed remark. Even so, she allowed herself to dare hope that the rift between the two might be mending, and that something could yet develop between them.

TBC

**_My thanks to LionQueen for her comments in her review. I somewhat agreed with her assessment, and so have made some adjustments to this chapter as a result of that._**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Here's the conclusion. Hope you find it satisfying! Thanks to all who reviewed - it's much appreciated. **

**Chapter 3** (Jan)

In the days that followed, Eomer seemed more receptive to Lothiriel's company, though she could never be certain what sort of mood he would be in at any given moment. Always she tried to keep their contact lighthearted, and often it did appear to lift his spirits. The cold, dark days of winter, however, appeared to prey upon his thoughts at times, and he would have seemed nearer if he were in Gondor.

He came to dinner one day in a strange mood, and said little during the course of it. After Eowyn had excused herself, and before Lothiriel could depart as well, he finally articulated what held his thoughts. Staring into the fire, he spoke in a monotone voice, observing, "You were right. I am become like my father, reckless and…dangerous. I cannot seem to stop flinging myself into battle, unheeding of the peril we face. More than once I have risked the lives of others so that.…" He stopped, consumed by his ponderings, and for a time Lothiriel did not respond.

At length, she told him, "Did you know that my father told me of his first glimpse of you?" Eomer's eyes flicked up to look at her in surprise. "He said you had watched Theoden die, and then discovered Eowyn among the fallen. You believed she was dead also and lost all hope, charging back into battle with a tremendous fury. You were outnumbered, even more than before, and though Father rode to your aid, the enemy was gaining the upper hand. Both he and you despaired when you spied the corsairs approaching, but then you glimpsed Aragorn's flag and knew that help had arrived. You rallied your men for a final defense, and when the dust settled, Men had prevailed."

Eomer's eyes were riveted on her as she recited this history, so familiar to him but seeming somehow different coming from her lips. Then she met his gaze steadily and added, "Father holds you in the highest esteem, Eomer, and he has never once spoken ill of your actions in battle, not even then. He understood how grief and despair had overwhelmed you that day, impairing your judgement, but he did not deem it a permanent character flaw. Neither should you. I have never heard any who has stood beside you on the battlefield speak ill of your actions."

To his surprise, a tear trickled down her cheek, but she did not seem to notice. And something inside of him loosened ever so slightly, almost as though a cold hard chunk of ice was slowly beginning to melt. _Could it be so? Was that only a momentary lapse on his part, not entirely within his control?_ Part of him desperately wanted to believe it, and yet, since that time, he had recklessly charged into battle. _But_…. And for the first time it dawned on him that the subsequent times were different than that day on the Pelennor. There he had risked the lives of others, so caught up was he in his despair and rage. Lately, though, his recklessness had largely just been a risk to him personally. While it concerned his men, and they made every effort to keep him safe, he had not been endangering them much beyond the norm of any battle. _Why had he done it?_ All he knew was that the thought of any orcs still infesting their lands filled him with unquenchable fury. How could the king of Rohan keep his people safe when such evil was still abroad? Only in their destruction could he feel some measure of success in doing his duty to the Riddermark.

Lothiriel watched the emotions flickering over his face, and kept silent. Perhaps her words had touched a nerve; hopefully they had triggered some introspection that would guide him to a resolution of whatever was eating away at him. She was tempted to slip away and leave him in peace, thinking her presence was intrusive, but she did not think he would want to be left alone just now, and so she sat quietly and waited.

At length, his eyes lifted and focused on her, filled with inexpressible gratitude. For several long moments, he just stared at her, before nervously clearing his throat and standing. "I should get back to my study. I have much yet to do today."

She rose as well, and then on impulse, asked, "Eomer, do the Rohirrim ever ride in such weather as this?" The past few days, though it continued to be cold and blustery, the snow was beginning to melt somewhat.

His eyebrows quirked and he nodded. "The Rohirrim ride in any kind of weather. Why?"

"I am unused to being indoors for such a long stretch, and I should very much like to go for a ride tomorrow. I would be pleased if you had time to join me, but if that is inconvenient, I am sure Eowyn would not mind."

The suggestion seemed to catch him off his guard, but clearly he found the notion appealing. "I will make time," he promised, giving her another nod of his head before exiting the room, and Lothiriel smiled.

xx

At break of fast, Eomer had suggested going just after the noon meal, as that was when it would be warmest. There was little remarkable about their outing, other than the fact that Lothiriel thought Eomer looked like a man granted reprieve from a sentence of death. Both he and his horse seemed eager to run, and though she knew her own mare could never match them over distance and this footing, she did her best to keep up. Eventually, Eomer had noticed the considerable distance he was putting between them, and had circled back to join her as they both drew their horses to a walk to let them cool off. The guard attending them was keeping a respectful distance, so conversation did not need to be censored, but even so, they both seemed content to ride in silence much of the time.

At length, Lothiriel suggested, "Why do you not show me some of your favorite sights in the Riddermark? I have seen little of your land other than the road between here and Gondor."

He nodded, saying, "I am happy to do so."

Turning to the southwest, he led the party to a sheltered area where they found a pond tucked amid some trees. "This is where Eowyn, Theodred and I would come to swim in the summer months," he reminisced. Then grinning, he added, "Likely it does not impress you very much. I have heard from your brothers that those in Dol Amroth enjoying swimming in the sea."

She smiled in return. "That is true, but the sea is far different from a pond, and each may be enjoyed for its own merits. On a hot summer's day, any bit of water would be welcome, I am certain."

Her easy response seemed to spur him to further remembrances, and they sat conversing for nearly a quarter hour as Eomer regaled her with tales of adventures he'd had here and elsewhere with his sister and cousin.

"Eowyn was much with you, then?" Lothiriel asked in surprise. "My brothers were not so accommodating of having their sister tag along with them."

"I confess I did not always _want_ Eowyn along, but she has always been a force to be reckoned with! In some ways, I should have expected it when she snuck into battle with us as we rode to Gondor's defense. She never did like being left behind."

His comment seemed to be pulling him down into morose thoughts, and Lothiriel did not want that to happen. "Eomer, there was nothing you could have done to change what happened. Circumstances conspired against the both of you. She did what she thought was necessary and, more than anything, if the world ended, she did not want to be parted from you or Theoden."

He turned to look at her, and raised a questioning eyebrow. "Has she spoken of this to you?"

Lothiriel gave a shrug. "A little. Some of it I have interpreted from her silence, and determined from the things she _did_ tell me. Though Grima never dared touch her, his words were just as destructive to her as they were to your uncle. She began to question everything about herself, and then when she could find no resolution in the world around her, she saw no recourse but a glorious end in battle. She truly believed that was the only way left open to her, and that the world was doomed anyway. Her despair is not unlike yours was when you believed she had perished alongside Theoden."

"I should have seen. I should have helped her," Eomer murmured in frustration.

"You could not," Lothiriel softly responded. "There are some things no one can fix for another person, not even a brother. And, in one sense, you should not have tried."

"What do you mean?" he asked curiously.

"In Gondor, there has long been the legend that no man could defeat the Witch-king. If that is true, then Eowyn needed to be there, skilled with a sword, to do what she did – what no man there that day could have done. Had she not, would it have made a difference in the outcome, do you think?"

Eomer fell into his thoughts, considering this. At length he shrugged, "I cannot say. Perhaps you are right. There are so many things in life for which we cannot tell all the repercussions of our actions."

They were beginning to get chilled sitting still so long, so Eomer suggested moving on to another location, this one on a hill top that afforded a good view of the plains, stretched white with snow before them. Though there were one or two trails broken through the powder, much of it was untouched from the instant it fell.

"How very like life, is it not?" Lothiriel observed.

Eomer glanced at her sideways. "How so?"

Turning behind them where the hooves of many horses had churned the snow considerably, she pointed to the furrows and explained, "No matter the past, however harrowed and difficult the passage through it," – she turned back and pointed to the unspoiled vista before them – "the future is always spotless. We cannot change what came before, but we _can_ determine what comes from this point on."

For a long time, Eomer stared at the view, contemplating her words. Finally, he nodded. "I had never thought of it like that, but you are right." He turned and gave her an appreciative smile, and for the first time in a great while she thought it truly reached his eyes.

They had been out several hours and the sun was beginning to drop in the sky, the temperature along with it. "Shall we head back for some warmth?" Eomer queried, and Lothiriel inclined her head in consent.

xxxxx

How had the time passed so quickly? Already March was upon them, and last minute preparations for the trek to Minas Tirith were underway. Eowyn tried to conceal her steadily increasing nerves, with minimal success, but Lothiriel provided a calming, steady influence that helped her maintain control.

The improved relations between the siblings, since the easing of the tension between Eomer and Lothiriel, was giving rise to increased teasing of his sister by the king. Had she not been so pleased that he was more himself of late, she might have rebuked him, but she could not help being extremely grateful to see the change in him. She dared not speak too soon, but she very much suspected that her brother and Lothiriel might yet form an attachment, and that would be all to the good for him and for Rohan.

When February had arrived, there had never been any question in Lothiriel's mind that she would remain at Meduseld her full agreed upon time, despite the improved weather that would have allowed her to make good on her previous determination to return home early.

Eomer had not questioned her about it, seeming to fear that if he brought it up it would encourage her to go. The frenzied hustle and bustle attending getting all of Eowyn's things readied and packed, along with Lothiriel's belongings and whatever else might be needed for the trip, had not afforded a great deal of time for interaction between Lothiriel and the king. Other than at meals, they had not seen much of one another for nearly a sennight, and Eomer found he was missing their conversations greatly.

Too soon, they were gathered at the foot of Meduseld, loading pack animals and getting everyone mounted to begin their journey to the south. Eomer had this gnawing feeling that he needed to speak with Lothiriel before they reached Gondor. Nothing had officially been settled between them, and he did not want to face questions from her father or anyone else until the two of them had had the opportunity to discuss their preferences.

The second day on the road, after the evening meal concluded, Eomer invited, "Lothiriel, will you walk with me?"

She eyed him curiously, but nodded and took his offered hand to rise, then caught his arm as they moved away from the main body of the camp. Guards were ranged about the encampment some distance out, so while they knew they could not wander far, there was still some leeway for a private conversation.

They walked in silence for some time, and only when Lothiriel tugged her cloak a bit more snugly about her did Eomer ask, "Are you warm enough?"

"Yes," she assured him. "It had just shifted a little as we walked, and I was readjusting it is all."

Now that they had stopped and the silence was broken, Eomer took it as the moment to speak further. "Lothiriel…." He hesitated, trying to find the right words for what he wanted to say to her. A glance up showed her smiling gently at him, and he found that encouraging.

Clearing his throat, he tried again, "We…we have not discussed the possibility of our trothplighting once we reach Minas Tirith. I…I know I have done little to recommend myself to you, but I hope that you might still be willing to consider that possibility." He had been gazing at the ground, but now his eyes came up to look imploringly into hers.

Her features softened further, and she smiled more broadly. "I never entirely _stopped_ considering the possibility, Eomer. The early months at Edoras were difficult, I will not deny, but I am yet inclined to make this alliance, if you would wish it." She glanced down and admitted, "For quite awhile, I did not think you desired to go through with it."

He caught one of her hands in his and murmured, "For quite awhile I could not imagine why you would even consider me. For that matter, why any woman would. I was lost, Lothiriel, and only through your help have I finally begun to find myself again. I will not lie to you – I am not convinced there will not still be dark days for me, but now I see hope where I did not before. I want nothing more than to have you beside me…I am persuaded that–"

He paused and when it did not appear he would continue, she prompted, "Persuaded what?"

Swallowing hard, he met her eyes, and his jaw tightened, as though preparing to be struck. "I am persuaded that I am come to love you. I have told myself it was merely gratitude, appreciation for all the help you have been to me, but I no longer believe that. I cannot say that I have ever felt love before, but I cannot imagine it being any more wondrous than this."

His eyes became wary, awaiting her response to this declaration, seemingly out of the blue. To his astonishment, and very great pleasure, she stepped in closer to him, allowing her hand to slide up his arm to his shoulder. "I do not find this news displeasing at all, Eomer. Indeed, I think I have long hoped for just such a thing," she murmured softly.

It took a moment for the words to register, and then his face flooded with relief. An instant later, he leaned in to tentatively press his lips to hers. They were warm, even in the cool evening air, and tasted of the wine from supper. As he began to draw back from the light kiss, her hand on his shoulder slipped into his hair and tangled there, tugging him back for more. Without hesitation, he complied with her demand, and this time his embrace spoke clearly of his feelings.

The couple was a long time in returning to camp.

xxxxxxx

Aragorn watched the party from Rohan dismounting and turning their horses over to stablehands. Eowyn could scarcely take her eyes off her betrothed, and it amused the king to note that his normally very attentive and focused Steward was having difficulty concentrating on the amenities when clearly all he wished to do was sweep his soon-to-be-wife into a passionate embrace.

Then Aragorn's eyes fell on Eomer. He had been concerned when last they had been together. Though Eomer hid it well, using the mask of grief for Theoden, something was greatly troubling the young man. Too well Aragorn knew how very proud the Rohirrim could be, and he knew his prying into Eomer's unrest would only prove embarrassing and annoying to Rohan's king. He could not help wanting to counsel with his friend, and offer some of the wisdom acquired over his many long years of experience, but he did not think Eomer would welcome such intimacy. It was not the way Rohirric men did things.

Now Aragorn turned his gaze to Lothiriel. She and the young king stood smiling together, sharing a private comment between them, and Eomer's face lit up as they talked. _Excellent!_ When a marriage of alliance between the two had been suggested, Aragorn had suspected Eomer agreed to it only to quickly deal with one of the many problems he faced. It had worried him how the two might fare when the reality of the situation sunk into Eomer's troubled mind. Clearly, if there had been difficulty in that regard, the two had overcome it, for none seeing them together now could doubt their friendly intercourse. Aragorn had hoped that the peaceful, compassionate lady might prove balm to Eomer's wounded spirit, and there was every evidence it was so. Yes, this was certainly a welcome development for all concerned.

THE END

5/12/07 – 5/18/07

_from Thain's book online, quoting some parts of Tolkien directly (www tuckborough net):_

_At dawn on March 15, the Rohirrim charged onto the Pelennor Fields. Eomer led the first eored, and Theoden rode before them all. Eomer rallied his Riders and they engaged the enemy. But then the knights of the King's household brought him to where his uncle lay mortally wounded from a confrontation with the Lord of the Nazgul. Before he died, Theoden hailed Eomer as King of the Mark, and Eomer wept. Then Eomer realized that his sister Eowyn was also among the fallen. _

He stood a moment as a man who is pierced in the midst of a cry by an arrow through the heart; and then his face went deathly white; and a cold fury rose in him, so that all speech failed him for a while. A fey mood took him.

"Eowyn, Eowyn!" he cried at last: "Eowyn, how come you here? What madness or devilry is this? Death, death, death! Death take us all!"

Then without taking counsel or waiting for the approach of the men of the City, he spurred headlong back to the front of the great host, and blew a horn, and cried aloud for the onset. Over the field rang his clear voice calling: "Death! Ride, ride to ruin and the world's ending!"

The Return of the King: "The Battle of the Pelennor Fields," 119

_The Rohirrim followed Eomer as he charged across the field, slaying their enemies as they went. But fury had made Eomer reckless, and his men were outnumbered and hard pressed. Prince Imrahil and other men of Gondor came to their aid, but the battle began to turn in favor of the Enemy and then the black-sailed ships of the Corsairs were seen coming up the Anduin. Eomer rallied his men for a final stand against the Corsairs and he raised his sword to defy them. _

"Out of doubt, out of dark to the day's rising

I came singing in the sun, sword unsheathing.

To hope's end I rode and to heart's breaking:

Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red nightfall!"

The Return of the King: "The Battle of the Pelennor Fields," p. 122

_But then Eomer laughed and threw his sword into the air and sang as he caught it, for he saw the standard of Aragorn unfurled on the foremost ship. Eomer led his men across the field and the enemy fled before him. Eomer and Aragorn met in the middle of the battlefield as Aragorn had said they would. _

_After the battle Eomer learned that his sister still lived and that she lay in the Houses of Healing._


End file.
